


Unsure

by TaeFansick



Category: South Park
Genre: Death, Falling In Love, Good versus Evil, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaeFansick/pseuds/TaeFansick
Summary: Christophe upon dying alone comes face to face with the son of the Devil, Damien, who offers him a deal: Damien will bring him back from the dead. In return, Christophe would help to turn people from the path of Good and Damien would reward Christophe whatever he wished.On the other hand, the Frenchman is also being harassed by some blonde who is trying to tell him there are things worth fighting for.All Christophe wants is to be left alone.





	1. Chapter 1

Near death again. Christophe wanted to curse and shout. He wanted to be as far away from this awful place as he could be. But instead he was losing blood fast and all the strength was leaving his body. Unable to keep the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he stumbled to the forest floor, coughing hard enough to make him moan in pain. He was cold and covered in a sheen of sweat that just made him shiver worse. Why did he keep doing this? He hated being a mercenary. But what else could he do? He had been in this line of work for as long as he could remember: ever since his father died and his mother taught him how to shoot and use a knife. His mother may have been a pain in the ass, but Christophe knew it was the only way she could teach him how to be this hard and uncaring in a cruel world. 

Christophe rolled onto his back, his vision blurred around the edges. He had died once before when he was young. back then he had been so frightened. He distantly recalled asking someone to hold him as he slipped away. He couldn't remember who he was with. Some other children and it was during that war with Canada. He scoffed at the memory. And his mother thought it would be safer there while he was being trained. 

A hard shudder ran up his back from the cold ground. Would this be where his body was found? Gregory would be expecting to get the hard drive that the Frenchman was dying for. But there was a large chance the blonde would leave him there to rot, removing anything that might be used to identify who Christophe was. The ground, once a safe and reliable place, would be the home of his body. Seemed fitting for a mole. 

He gazed up at the sky, noting the colours beginning to bleed through the grey and blues left over from the night, the sun easing into view to signal the morning. The nocturnal beasts would be slumbering soon and the birds would be greeting the day. Right now though, it was still. Christophe was very aware of his shallow breathing and the thuds of his heart becoming further and further apart. 

He wondered where the angel was that he saw the last time he died. He could still hear the memory of their voice as he faded away.


	2. Chapter 2

All of Christophe's senses came flooding back to him in an instant, the air rushing back into his lungs so fast he began violently coughing and gasping. 

"You really are awful at first impressions, hacking like that," 

The dry comment would normally make Christophe think of Gregory, but when he focused his gaze, he saw a young man dressed in black standing above him and watching him with steady eyes. The Frenchmen forced himself to sit up. He was confused feeling slick tile floor under him and further examined his surroundings. Wasn't he in the woods? But this was a room. White walls with red borders, deep burgundy curtains he could see were velvet. The floor was a slick black but he could see his reflection in the polished surface as he stood. His body ached but he was pleasantly surprised to see he wasn't injured anymore. 

Then it clicked. "I'm dead." 

"Almost," the other male corrected. "I've put you in a sort of limbo for a moment so we can chat. And I didn't want to dirty up the floor,"

"Chat about what?" 

"You're a fascinating creature, Christophe," the male smirked, moving over to a desk in the far end of the room, forcing the mercenary to follow him with slow and steady steps. The figure seated himself, opening a large file, skimming over the details. "You've led a pretty awful life. Killing people, stealing, lying, fucking random whores. In any other case, I would simply leave you to my father to deal with. But you had another trait that caught my attention: you despise...well, you know," 

"I don't. I hate a lot of people." Christophe scoffed. "So where am I? Hell?" 

"Clever boy," the other praised mockingly. "Yes. Hell. I'm Damien, by the way. You may as well know it since we may be in business together," 

"You work with dead men?" 

"Always," Damien grinned. "But I can send you back to the land of the living,"

Christophe's gaze narrowed in suspicion. "Why would you want to do that?" 

"Simply put: you're a crass individual but you tend to have a certain charm when you want to get your way. I've seen the way you lure people into a false sense of security," 

"That's just the job." 

"It's a valuable skill. One you can use for me. I will give you your life again, send you back to the living, but I want you to try and turn more people against-" 

"God?" Maybe Christophe was imagining it, but he could swear he saw fear flash across Damien's face at the name. 

The son of the Devil merely nodded, appearing composed again. "Yes."

The Frenchman rolled his eyes. "So I get my shitty life back, and I work for you and that bitch Gregory for who knows how long? Doesn't sound like I'm getting a good deal," 

"You misunderstand. You will serve me alone," Damien strode across to stand before the desk, sitting atop of it, one leg swung over the other. In any other case, Christophe would admit that the other was attractive to a degree. "You can do whatever you wish. I'll give you unlimited resources to do this for me and if you succeed, I'll grant you whatever you wish. Riches, fame, glory, it's all yours." 

"And if I were to take this task and fail?" It sounded like a tempting offer, but he knew well enough there would be high stakes. If this was Hell and this was the son of the Devil... Well, he was no fool. 

"You go back to being dead. And you'll be tortured the rest of eternity with the rest of the masses here." 

Christophe was quiet, mulling it over. Do the Devil's work, be set for life. Or: don't take the offer, be skinned alive. He was doomed either way so did it really matter? He wasn't fond of the idea of serving yet another pretty boy that refused to get his hands dirty, though. He huffed. "Fuck it. I'll take the deal but I can't promise any results." At least he could enjoy himself for a while before being damned. 

"I'll give you two weeks to make progress. Just turn over one devout soul and I'll hold up my end of the bargain. After that, you can make a career of it." Damien appeared almost giddy as he extended his hand to shake Christophe's. 

The Frenchman scoffed at the idea of making a literal deal with the Devil, but had little time to joke about it as the moment their hands grasped each other's, he woke on the forest floor.


	3. Chapter 3

He would have thought it was a dream save for the fact that he wasn't bleeding out anymore. He was still sore and felt like he had been mauled by a pissed off grizzly, but at least he could walk again. 

Christophe used the time to mull over what he just agreed to. A deal with the son of Satan... And turning people against God? How the hell was he supposed to do that? Sure, he had his issues with God. He felt like he had been fucked over more than fair between his father dying in this line of work, his mother forcing him to train for it, Gregory breathing down his neck day after day, year after year... But turning people against the Church? He didn't care what other people did. He was raised Catholic and considered his issues with God more a one on one match. Other people didn't need to be involved because other people wouldn't understand. 

Frankly, he wasn't too shocked he woke up in Hell. Or at least some part of it. He knew he didn't live a good life. 

_"You can't die!"_

Christophe paused, standing at the side of an empty road, the fog of the early morning beginning to disperse under the warm sun. His angel... It was a little disappointing he wouldn't go to Heaven and meet them. 

His cell rang, disrupting his thoughts. Gregory. Reluctantly, he pulled the phone from his pocket and answered the call. He didn't say anything, knowing what was coming. "Mole! Finally! Where are you? Where's the hard drive?" 

Right. A hard drive is why he was now in this situation. How annoying. "I had an unexpecting meeting." He glanced down the road and figured it was safe enough to try and find a town or something. Just one devout soul and he was done with his end of the deal, right? 

"Meeting? With who? I thought we agreed I would meet with contacts and relay people to you!" 

"Different kind of meeting." Honestly, Gregory was so annoying. 

"Christophe." Now that voice was right beside him. The mercenary spun around, clutching at the phone and seeing Damien standing there, calm as could be. "I already told you not to worry about that one any more. You work for me now." 

"Yeah, well you try telling him to fuck off then," Christophe shot back. 

"Who are you talking to? Whose there with you?" 

"Say the word and he's no longer an issue," Damien offered calmly. 

Christophe narrowed his eyes. "What? Kill him? He's just a pest." Gregory was annoying but that wasn't a good reason to kill someone. He huffed. "Listen, Herring, I quit. Find another hire. I'll leave the hard drive and cellphone in a po box somewhere." At Gregory's indignant shrieking, he hung up and shut the phone off entirely. 

Damien frowned. "That's too bad. I was hoping to have an excuse to be rid of him," 

"You said I had unlimited resources to use," Christophe reminded the other. "How does that work?" 

"Check your back pocket." 

Doing as he was told, Christophe found a small zipped up pouch. A simple soft case coloured deep black, similar to something you'd find at an electronics store to carry cords and such in except it was a little larger. When he opened it, he found IDs, a passport, credit cards in his name, paper money, and a small trinket. Christophe pulled the latter item out and examined it. It looked like a silver chain bracelet with a clear stone he couldn't place. "What's this for?" 

"That's a special item you'll need to do your task. You wear it and the stone will change colours depending on the individual you're with. Clear means nothing. Yellow means it's a soul in doubt. Orange means devout. Grey means they already strayed, so don't bother with them. Now if you change a soul from orange to black, then you'll have completed your work." 

Christophe hummed. "So by devout you mean like a priest?" He slipped the item on, glad to see it wasn't too feminine looking. 

"It's not that easy. That's what the stone is for. Sometimes a person will claim to be dedicated but they don't really believe. Sometimes someone will shy away from saying anything but they are devout. This eliminates the guesswork." 

"I see." This would be more of a pain in the ass than he thought. 

"Well, you have two weeks. I'll check in on you to see your progress." 

"Just one soul?" 

"One soul and you're set for all eternity," Damien promised. "Just be sure it is a devout one." With that, it was as if the other hadn't been there at all. A blink of the eye and he vanished. 

Christophe huffed, zipping the pouch back up and continuing to walk along the quiet road. He was bound to find a town eventually, right?


	4. Chapter 4

Christophe wound up walking along the road for hours, only the occasional vehicle passing by. Normally he would be on edge about being in plain view, but you can't get much worse off than death and he'd already done that once today. Besides, it was very unlikely that he would run into the people he robbed. He had already been travelling for hours by the time he collapsed and there was a good chance they weren't in a hurry, searching for a corpse instead of a man. 

He tried to gain his bearings, following the signs and noting the landmarks he passed. Mostly family owned gas stations and the occasional house. Eventually, he noticed cars were passing by more frequently as he passed a ranch. He was tempted to turn on his cellphone and try and find out where he was, but the idea of hearing Gregory's voice again made him cringe. He decided to just keep going the direction of the traffic and follow the growing noise, a town in view. 

He had a strange sense of nostalgia as he strode along, trying to ignore the growing protest his limbs gave as his body demanded rest and food. His mouth was parched and he still felt the lingering chill of the breeze over the remains of snow. Snow in May...How miserable. He opted to just keep walking, eventually reaching the outskirts of a simple town. 

Well, simple in comparison to the cities he's lived in. Coming across a post office, he paused mid-step. He should be able to send the hard drive to the po box he typically used for Gregory's pickups. He sighed. _Better get it over with._ He strode in, just as someone was about to leave. Some young girl with long black hair and a purple coat that gave him a bright "hello" before striding past. 

Friendly town. He noted a few people in line but otherwise, the place was pretty vacant. He grabbed a large envelope as he took his place in line, grabbing a pen on the counter by the paperwork for passports and changes of address. He quickly jotted down the location, leaving the return blank before tossing the phone and hard drive inside and sealing the container. Luckily everyone was more interested in chit-chatting than paying him any mind. 

Envelope in hand, he began going over what to do next. He could just try and find someone here for his deal. There had to be a hotel somewhere. That would mean grabbing some groceries or ordering in. It would be nice to have food delivered for a change without worrying about anyone saying anything or recognizing him. And once he cleared his new debt with the Devil, he could simply enjoy not being a mercenary for a while. He could actually settle somewhere...

"Jeez! Always either a line or they're closed!" A voice complained behind him. 

He hadn't even noticed anyone walked in. Glancing over, Christophe saw a blonde clad in an orange hoodie, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he looked up in front of the line. Not sure what to say, Christophe merely nodded and turned back ahead. 

The blonde was having none of it. "I haven't seen you here before," he commented. When the Frenchman turned to address him, the blonde smiled brightly. "Kenny," he introduced, extending a hand out. 

"...Christophe," he returned quietly. He almost said "Mole" but that wouldn't be accurate anymore would it? He shook the young man's hand, glancing at the new addition to his wrist. What were the colours Damien told him again? What did the blue mean? 

"Christophe, huh? You go by Chris or Tophe for short?" 

"I have never been called either," 

Kenny shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that. So you move here recently?" 

"Something like that," 

"Seeing family? Work? School?" 

"Why are you so interested?" Normally Christophe would be annoyed but the blonde had a vibe about him that gave off the impression he was genuinely curious. It was like this Kenny already knew but wanted Christophe to confirm something. 

"I like to know everyone in town and what they do," Kenny said simply. "We have a lot of weirdos come through and I like a heads up on who to avoid. I have a couple of friends that love to seem to get into trouble, though. So you're like, French, right?" 

"...Oui, French." 

"Cool, cool. Just don't be surprised if some fatass harasses you about it," 

"...I will be sure to remain stoic." Could this line move any faster?! 

"I like your bracelet," Kenny continued. Either he didn't notice Christophe becoming uncomfortable or he didn't care. The former mercenary had the idea it was the latter. "Where'd you get it from?" 

"It was a gift," 

"From like a parent or girlfriend or something?" 

"Work associate," 

Kenny hummed thoughtfully. Christophe listened intently as he followed the line steadily moving forward. That was the first time the other went quiet since he entered the building. That couldn't have been what he wanted to know, right? Christophe slowly relaxed the longer the silence continued before Kenny suddenly spoke again. "You know just because someone is offering you a good deal doesn't mean you have to take it." His tone was softer as if he was trying to avoid anyone who may have been listening in and it sent a chill up Christophe's spine. He chanced to peer over his shoulder at the blonde who now had blue eyes locked on the Frenchman. "I know it's tempting," Kenny continued. "He's a good looking and charismatic guy. He's kinda supposed to be. I almost fell for it once but, ya know, I'm more used to dying since it happens to me so often." 

Christophe was torn from the confrontation when he was called up the counter. He hurriedly handed the envelope over and paid, refusing to look over at the young man whose eyes were boring into him. He rushed to leave, unsettled when the young man followed him. "Leave me be," he hissed.

"Christophe, right? Listen, you can't go through with this deal," 

"I can do whatever I please!" 

"You'd really be okay with someone having a fate worse than death for the rest of time just because you wanted a cushy life?" Kenny jogged to keep up with the Frenchman, striding beside him. "The person you send, they're family to someone. A lover, a mentor, a friend. You would really be okay with everyone that would be hurt by them leaving?" 

"What if it's some homeless rat?" Christophe challenged, entering a grocery store. He may as well grab some quick items before hunting down a room. "What if it's some sadistic fuck living a double life or someone who is about to meet their maker anyway? Why do you even care?" 

Kenny hurried to cut Chrisophe off in the aisle, glaring coldly. "I care because that person you pick could easily be someone I care about. Especially if you hang around here. Use your head! Damien already got his sucker and it's you! How long did he even give you to do this dirty work?" 

"...Two weeks." No point in denying it. And Damien hadn't said anything was confidential. "So you're saying that if I were to leave and move on to a different town with people you didn't know...then it wouldn't matter to you? Is that it?" 

"You're not going to be able to turn someone in two weeks anyway, but it's the principal of it. You're already screwed. Why would you try to make someone else suffer with you?" 

"I don't know that I will," the burnet answered honestly. "But if I'm doomed anyway, I may as well relax for a few days." 

Kenny's expression became one of pity. "Christophe. Please. Think about what you're doing." With that, the blonde left the Frenchman alone with his thoughts in a bustling store. 

He sighed. It wasn't meant to be this complicated, was it?


	5. Chapter 5

Christophe was not pleased by the turn of events. After grabbing a few simple things to eat and a hotel room for the night, he pondered the events of the past day. Dying, meeting Damien, accepting the deal and now that blonde's words were rattling around in his head. 

What Kenny said wasn't wrong, but it was still annoying. Christophe found a bit of guilt clawing at him as he pondered it. Christophe had somewhat agreed with Kenny when he refused to have Damien kill Gregory. It wasn't that Christophe had a moral objection with it, but the Frenchman didn't want to have someone taken out just for being annoying. He would have only to find someone devout that people were better not having around. That should appease the deal. 

The next morning, he opted to wander around the town and try and find someone that fits. He met plenty of annoying and useless people in his trek. There was an extremely passive-aggressive cashier, an incompetent police officer, some judgmental fitness nuts, but nobody that were signalled by the bracelet as devout. He had gotten to the point where he was about to resort to visiting the Church and whatever else in town to find someone. He'd always had terrible relationships with the clergy anyway. 

He found the Church eventually, actually admiring that it was sort of off by itself in the small town. He could tell by the looks of many of the businesses downtown that they were new, but there seemed to be a respect for this place, keeping it only a place of reflection. Christophe felt uneasy as he stepped inside the massive building, his footsteps echoing softly. Glancing around, he frowned. Was no one here? He almost turned and left when he heard voices muffled in one of the rooms. His eyes narrowed a bit. What was this pull he felt? Curious, he moved as silently as he could, he walked towards the noise. There was an itching feeling he had like he was meant to grasp as something, but there was nothing in reach. The void in his chest he'd grown accustomed to over the years felt like it was slowly easing away with each step. Like he was supposed to be here.

"I don't know if I'm doing the right thing," 

Christophe stopped walking. That voice...There was something familiar about it. He remained as still as possible, trying to pin which room held the sound. There was something that came across his shoulders like a warm blanket. A comfort; something familiar that made Christophe pause. 

"What is it that makes you question yourself?" This voice was older. The Frenchman guessed that he was the priest talking. 

Christophe moved closer to the door, brows furrowed in concentration. He heard the other occupant of the room sigh. They sounded distressed. 

"I'm not sure what to do," the other admitted. "I'm not even sure if I should give up or keep going... What if the court is right and I can't take care of the small amount of family I have left?" 

Christophe glanced to his wrist, seeing it orange. A person devout but down on their luck... That would be prime territory for what Damien had planned. Still, messing with someone when they were already in doubt. The idea left a bad taste in Christophe's mouth. It just sounded like kicking someone when they were down. But that would be the most natural way to pick someone off. 

He opted to linger in the hall, waiting for the two to finish talking. He wasn't thrilled about the setup he was in, but if he could do this job as effortlessly as possible, he might as well. He seated himself on the carpet, tuning in and out to the conversation happening in the other room. He caught bits and pieces but figured it would be better not to know just yet and act surprised. 

After what felt like ages, there was shuffling on the other side to signal they were about to leave. Christophe left to head outside. It would be better to mistake coming across them. It wouldn't instil trust to make them think the ex-mercenary was a stalker. He moved by the street, grateful it wasn't a busy town. Pulling out a cigarette, he relaxed against a lamppost, keeping an eye on the entrance. 

After a few moments, nearing the end of his smoke, he heard someone emerge. It wasn't too hard to play the part of a casual observer as he spent many years perfecting it. However, he was tested when dark eyes were greeted with a lovely sight: waves of red tied back, a freckled nose, pouty lips... And the most enchanting eyes Christophe ever had the pleasure of seeing. Something nagged at the back of his mind, sending a surge of panic through him. Why did he feel so drawn? 

He cleared his throat to dislodge any unsettling thoughts. He must be paranoid. The sound attracted the attention of the other male, green eyes locking with his. Christophe gave his most charming smile and a wave, nearly going weak when he saw a dusting of pink on that pretty face. 

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

Christophe swallowed. He didn't break from his haze until those green eyes averted from him, the other giving a shy nod of acknowledgement before making his way down the sidewalk. Snapping from his trance, he quickly put out his cigarette, following the other and quickly catching up. "Hello," he greeted, internally grimacing. When the other male gazed at him with nervous confusion, Christophe felt a surge of panic. "I'm Christophe," he introduced, extending his hand out. 

"Kyle," the other returned, his voice softer. The redhead was still nervous, gesturing to Christophe's wrist. "I um...like your bracelet," 

His bracelet. The pendant. Christophe glanced to the gem, a lovely shade of orange. Devout... "It was a gift," Christophe replied. He tucked his hand in his pocket, hiding the trinket. "I'm becoming less fond of it the more I wear it." 

Kyle's brow furrowed. "That sucks...Why not take it off?" 

"I made a promise I would wear it at least a couple weeks," Christophe answered honestly. It felt so easy to relax with this young man... "May I ask...You just left the Church."

"That's not a question," 

"What I mean is...are you alright?" The question was genuine rolling off his tongue. The Frenchman found he actually wanted to know the young man's well being was intact. 

"...Not really," Kyle confessed. He shook his head with a sad smile playing his lips, locks shaking from the movement. Christophe caught the other's scent in the air and almost moved closer to try and place the aroma. There was something nostalgic about it. "It's fine. I'm not looking to bore anyone with my issues. Cept maybe the priest since he gets paid for it, right?" 

"You're Catholic?" 

"Jewish," 

Christophe's brow now contorted in confusion. "And you went to a Catholic Church?" 

Kyle shrugged. "I know it's stupid, but something happened in my family and... I've gotten some good advice there before. Plus...I dunno, I believe a lot in the morals of the Jewish faith but my friends are all Catholic or Christian and so...sometimes I lean towards asking the Church for help. Faith is faith and a lot of the elements are similar." 

"I suppose. I was raised Catholic myself and didn't get much out of it,"

"So your an Athiest?" Kyle asked without judgement but just as a simple inquiry, as if he asked Christophe about his favourite season. It was refreshing. 

"...I'm not sure." After all, God and the Devil existed, so he couldn't not believe. And that boy Kenny...something was off about him. And Kenny knew about Damien, supposedly meeting the son of the Devil before. "When I was younger I believed in God. Then I started hating Him. For how my life turned out," 

"I almost stopped believing when I was a kid," Kyle confessed. "A kid I knew that was downright evil most of the time had something great happen to him and it didn't make sense to me why he was being given something so great when he was so awful," 

"But you're still faithful,"

"He had it ripped away from him,"

Christophe gave a nod of understanding. Made sense. "I did start believing in angels though," Christophe confided. "I'm convinced I saw one when I almost died,"

"You almost died?" By this point, the two of them had strolled absent-mindedly down the street, heading to the park. "What happened?" 

Christophe couldn't help the smile that played across his lips. It was touching that this beauty cared for his well being despite the fact they just met and Christophe obviously survived the incident. "I was reckless and got mauled by dogs." 

"That's awful!" 

"It was my own fault." He gave a charming grin, pride filling his chest when he saw the pretty pink dust the other's face again. "Do you really care for my health that much?" 

"I care about everyone's health!" The other defended. 

"And of your own?" His smile slipped away. "What happened?" 

Kyle was quiet a moment before shrugging. "Just...my parent's died." 

Oh. "And you're upset they're gone," the Frenchman guessed. 

"Well, yeah, but it happens. I was at the Church for a different reason." Kyle sighed. "I have a brother, but he was adopted when I was young. His parent's found out ours died and they're trying to get custody of him." 

Oh... Christophe actually felt his chest constrict at how upset the other sounded. Those emerald eyes were locked on the ground but Christophe could tell the other was holding back tears at how Kyle's voice caught. He suddenly realized how tired and defeated Kyle looked and he had the urge to embrace the young man. "I'm sorry." And he was. He began racking his brain on how to help. 

"It's fine. I'll figure it out." Kyle forced a smile before gesturing to a house. "This is my stop. I better get going. It was nice meeting you, Christophe,"

"And you, Kyle." The Frenchman watched as Kyle strode off, admiring that the redhead was still able to walk as if the world wasn't collapsing around him. Christophe forgot about Damien and the deal. He just knew he had to help this young man.


End file.
